


The Secret Lives of NPCs

by JackBivouac



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bestiality, Bondage, Bukkake, Double Penetration, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Knotting, Multi, Sexual Slavery, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: Quick and dirty pages from this year's NaNoWriMo attempt:A 12-strong team of Duel Wars pro-gamers fall into "life debt" with their wealthy patrons. As punishment, their brains are removed and used to help power the virtual reality of a new game world. Unexpectedly, they awaken within the game with unique powers from their old game.
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

After Jack had his/their brain removed, he never imagined he’d awaken in the world of the new VR game he and his unfortunate teammates were helping to power. Yet his eyes opened and there he was, a Black youth on the tall and spindly side in the coarse garb of a fantasy peasant. Better yet, he wasn’t alone! 

With all the NPCs’ names floating over their heads, his included, there was no mistaking Rook and Bishop. Rook, a young Korean American, looked just as she/they had in life. Only Bishop, a Japanese American youth, seemed different. Their skin was a deathly gray, and their eyes were no longer black but a silvery white.

Jack waved at them from across the street and over the heads of the passing townsfolk. The two gawked at him, gawked at each other, then waved back in slow wonderment. Jack laughed and jogged between the NPCs to pull them into a hug. “Dang, am I glad to see you guys!”

“So am I,” said Rook, “but how is this even possible? And hell, where are the others?”

“No idea,” shrugged Bishop, “but it looks like we’re ‘Level 1 unique commoners.’ And I’m apparently a ‘dhampir.’”

Unique commoners? Before Jack could check out his character stats for whatever that meant, a sharp retort like the crack of distant thunder sliced through the noise of the growing crowd. A stray dog bolted out from under a wagon. All heads turned toward a podium, including four marked by a little green diamond floating beside their names--PCs, Jack guessed.

The portly man at the podium, Father Zaun, beamed at them all and took a deep breath to speak. He was cut off by a scream. Followed by another. Another. Heads turned in confusion and a growing alarm.

High-pitched, tittering shrieks surged up from the foot of the crowd. Townsfolk parted as a short, green-skinned blur raced by, giggling with sadistic glee. The stray dog yelped in pain and collapsed with a gurgle, its throat cut from ear to ear. As blood pooled around its head, the air filled with the raucous chant of shrill, scratchy voices.

Goblins--big-headed, bug-eyed, and knife-eared--swarmed into the town square. They attacked with dogslicers and torches, slashing legs and setting wagons alight. Screaming commoners dropped like flies as they attempted to run to safety.

The PCs attacked the goblin gang coming down the nearest street but couldn’t defend the townsfolk against the others. So Jack took matters into his own hands. As a unique commoner, he was afforded a single ability, [Summons], 7 times/day for 1 round/level. He didn’t know what it did, but there was no way in heck was just gonna stand around.

A familiar orange vortex thrummed to whirling life before him--it looked exactly like the portal he used to send out his Champion and Destroyer from Duel Wars. Out climbed an even more familiar 12ft, horned hulk of a demon with thick, orange fur. Jack gaped in disbelief, but there was no mistaking it. That was his Destroyer, Demon Howler.

Demon Howler opened their fanged jaws and let out an [Abyssal Roar]. The deafening, staggering blast of unholy sound filled the entire town square. Everyone but Jack, Rook, and Bishop were blasted off their feet. At the end of that single attack, the demon vanished in a harmless burst of orange sparks.

“Holy shit! That was your Destroyer from Duel Wars!” said Rook, her voice echoing eerily through the square.

“Uh, guys?” said Bishop. “Take a look around.”

Roughly three dozen goblins and a hundred townsfolk laid unmoving in the town square. Including the four PCs.

[You have levelled up]  
[You have levelled up]

Oh, this was bad. This was really bad. In a mere six seconds, Demon Howler/Jack had wiped out all the enemies but also, like, 8% of his new hometown’s population.

Shock bled the strength from Jack’s body. He collapsed onto wobbling hands and knees. “I--I’m a...m-manslaughterer.”

Rook, hands over her mouth, couldn’t say anything. Tears ran from her eyes as she shook her head. This wasn’t just some game. This was the new world and reality that had offered them an escape from death. Those might’ve been NPCs, but they were the real projections of all the brains giving life to this VR. What was real in the mind was real in the flesh.

Bishop squatted down beside Jack. They placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Look, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just get out of here and get our stories straight.”

Jack was too stricken to do anything but look up numbly, much less argue. Bishop helped him to his feet, staying under his shoulder to keep him steady.

“Holy Desna! What in all the Spheres happened here?” cried a new voice at the edge of the square.

Too late.

*#*#*#*#

Hundreds of thousands of miles south of rugged Varisia, on the balmy Chelish coast of the Inner Sea, three more members of Team Stray Dog awoke unexpectedly. More unexpectedly, the Level 1 unique commoners awoke on the job as employees of the Bruised Eel brothel.

Steel had become a dhampir--his skin leeched to porcelain white, his hair to white-gold, and his eyes to a hue more silver than blue. He laid naked upon a stained but sturdy table. Tight ropes lashed his limbs to its legs. His head dangled free over one end of the table, perfect for the patron thrusting a cock into the back of his throat. At the other end, a second patron rammed a dick up his spasming asshole while a third straddled his hips on the table, riding the dhampir’s cock.

Juniper, once an indigenous American, had become a changeling. Their hair and one eye turned greenish-black. The other eye turned to cat’s-eye yellow. Their nails had hardened and darkened to greenish-black claws. They, too, had been stripped naked.

They laid on the yellowed, threadbare mattress of an iron bed frame. Their wrists were bound together behind their head to a bar of the headboard. One patron straddled their head, grinding a slicked cunt into their helpless mouth. A second plowed a cock between their uselessly kicking legs and into the wet squeeze of their own pussy.

Of the three youths, Garnet was the most physically changed. The mixed race girl had become a tiefling with deep red skin and goat-like horns. Her brown hair and eyes had darkened to soot black. A long, thin tail sprouted from her tailbone and ended in the shape of an inverted heart.

Her wrists were tightly bound behind her back by a patron’s leather belt. A second belt was drawn tight and choking around her throat. The two standing patrons crushed and suspended her body between them. Her head bobbed and calves flopped pathetically at each gut-deep slam of their pistoning cocks. 

Yet despite her bulging eyes and agonized, fish-like gasping, her stuffed pussy and asshole clenched and convulsed hard around their impaling cocks. The new and immense pressure of taking two dicks at once made Garnet cum instantly and uncontrollably. Her sweat-slicked body wracked violently between the hard flesh crushing hers, tail thrashing.

The patrons laughed mockingly as the tiefling’s eyes rolled back in her head, drool leaking from the corners of her gaping mouth. She was an even better fuck with her useless body jerking and writhing between them. They shot their loads into her tight, pulsating ass and pussy, then dumped the still-trembling tiefling to the floor to mark her face, hair, tits, and belly with the rest of their cum. They left her there--raw, quivering, and oozing seed--for someone else to deal with.

It was not another patron but Nivena, the brothel master’s assistant, who opened the door. Like most Chelaxians, she had dark hair and eyes, which rolled in exasperation at the pathetic sight. “Get your ass together and into the office--Arael’s special guests are here.”

The brothel master’s name loosed an unexpected cascade of memories and warmth. This half-elf had taken in Garnet, Steel, Juniper, and Nivena off the streets despite his meager wages as the Bruised Eel’s overworked assistant at the time. When the owner passed, leaving the brothel in his hands, all four of his adopted children offered to work there when they came of age to bring more coin to their motley little family. While Arael initially refused, he later relented after the increased freedom of his new schedule allowed him to turn serious effort toward his passion project--liberating the city of Westcrown from the oppression of its nobility.

Of course, such resistance projects required two things: funding and manpower. He and his family managed adequate funding for now. None of these commoners, however, had the skills to undertake any of the missions he’d planned--not alone, anyway. Hence, the ‘special guests.’

So Garnet staggered off the floor as fast as she could and threw on the simple black frock hanging from a wall hook. She ran into Steel and Juniper in the hallway. None of the former teammates/presently coworkers and adopted siblings good look each other in the eye.

Instead, they filed into the strangely familiar and welcoming office. Nivena was already there at their half-elf caretaker’s side. Arael was a tall, imposing man whose middle age gave a sharp cut to his dark, ruggedly handsome features. Though unsmiling, it was not hostility but concern that hardened his face.

Four guests with little green rectangles floating beside their names occupied either of the two loveseats in front of his desk. Vejna was a young Varisian with deep olive skin, platinum hair, and jade green eyes. Ra was another half-elf, but his/their hair was a wavy auburn. His eyes were a rich amber and his skin a dark bronze.

The other two were tieflings, but both with broader, more muscular builds than Garnet. Tegon had teal skin and horns with violet stripes and yellow eyes. Graven, the bigger of the two, had storm gray skin and horns and fiery copper eyes. Neither had tails, but Graven had thick black claws to match his horns.

“Vejna, Ra, Tegon, Graven--these are my most trusted employees, Steel, Juniper, and Garnet,” said Arael. “They will do everything in their power to aid you. Any questions?”

When no one spoke up, he continued with the details of their first mission in resistance. The Bastards of Erebus, a gang reputedly used for the dirty work of one of Westcrown’s noble houses, had committed a spree of robberies, kidnappings, and worse near the old city. The last incident had resulted in a double murder.

With their patron’s protection against the city guard and the nightly shadow guard, the Bastards were only growing more brazen in their atrocities. Arael, however, had recently pinpointed their hideout thanks to a few loose-lipped patrons of the Bruised Eel. The Bastards had set up in an old temple of Erastil shuttered long ago when the Infernal Chelaxian Empire first outlawed all but the worship of Asmodeus, King of Hell.

“If you can infiltrate their hideout and gather information, that would be best,” said Arael, “but in the end, I’m paying you to eliminate them completely. Nivena, let’s give them the room to plan.”

His assistant followed him out of the office with a single, lingering look back. The four PCs waited until the door had shut before speaking.

“Well, if we don’t know their numbers, I suppose it’s not a bad idea to take the NPCs along as party cohorts,” said Vejna.

“You know, they might work well as a distraction,” said Ra.

“What, send them in as ‘a reward for jobs well done’ from their patron?” laughed Tegon.

“Why not?” the half-elf shrugged. “I doubt they’d check the gift card on a bunch of prime-ass sex workers.”

“No, no, it’s a solid idea,” said the Varisian. “We send them in first, sneak around in after, and then wipe the Bastards out.”

“They’re going to notice once we start killing them,” said Tegon.

“Then we start discreetly but go all-out once they raise the alarm,” said Ra. “How does that sound?”

The three brothel workers shared a look. No, they fucking hated the plan, but this was kinda what they’d signed up for. Before any of them could speak, however, Graven finally chimed in with a low, gravelly voice.

“Fine.”

The four PCs rose to their feet as though it was all settled. To their minds, of course it was. No one could possibly have imagined this world’s NPCs to be as living and breathing as they were unless they’d experienced it themself.

*#*#*#*#

Back north, only 30mi southwest of the little town of Sandpoint, began the great urban sprawl of the city-state of Magnimar. The next three Stray Dogs awoke here in an old, boarded-up tavern in the shoreline district of Dockway. 

Once known as the Puffy Pelican, a faded painting of a fat pelican still graced the facade of the empty building. Around back, a half-collapsed wooden deck that hung over the high-tide mark. The boards over the back door had recently been removed by an enterprising group of blackmarket slavers. They stored their daylight catches here until it was dark enough to bring them to market without drawing attention.

Lien, a Chinese American, looked just as she had in her old life. Only now she was naked with an iron collar around her neck. The slavers had stuffed her wadded up panties in her mouth to gag her. Her wrists were bound behind her back and around a thick wooden pole. 

One slaver had her shoved up against said pole, one thigh hooked in his arm and spread to the side. Her dangling calf kicked, her standing leg trembling on its toes as his dick rammed up her tight asshole, pounding her into the hard wooden pole. The mixed cum and slick oozing from her pussy down her standing leg attested to one or more previous penetrations while she’d been...wherever she’d been before awakening.

Fan, a short and slight Mongolian American, looked almost the same. He was an android in this world--his black eyes flashing with a metallic sheen and his olive skin riddled with silvery-gray tattoo-like circuitry. Like the others, he’d been collared. Rope bound his bent forearms tightly together behind his back, his hands dangling uselessly below his elbows.

Two slavers had Fan bent over a rough wooden crate. One gripped his head by a handful of thick, black hair. She forced him to lick and suck her dripping cunt. The second held him by his narrow hips as they drove their dick up his pulsating anal shaft.

The most changed was the mixed-race Song. They had become a merfolk with deep blue hair and scales. Their eyes were as dark as the ocean’s lightless depths. They laid on their side on the floorboards, their arms lashed together behind their back at the wrists and elbows.

Their mouth serviced the pussy of the slaver sitting on their face. Two more slavers were on either side of their sleek, dark tail. They shoved their dicks up the subtly hidden slits of Song’s ass and pussy. The merfolk flopped and thrashed like a landed fish as their pistoning cocks forced them to cum over and over again.

Song gasped and sobbed onto the cunt gagging their mouth even as their ass and pussy wrapped tighter around the dicks raping them. Their flesh and tail wracked uncontrollably between the crush of bodies, their fingers grasping uselessly. The merfolk let out a muffled, animal squeal as their rapists blew their loads up their convulsing shafts.

This game world was already far, far too real. Would it force NPCs to be impregnated? Song feared the worst with its allowance of such inhumanity as rape.

Tears ran from their eyes as the slavers pulled their dicks out their tail. Thud! Thud! The sound was so suspiciously akin to that of bodies hitting the floor that even the slaver on Song’s mouth tried to turn and see what had happened.

Then she, too, thudded onto the floor. Blood pooled from her slit throat. Her attacker and Song’s rescuer was one of four with a green diamond floating beside his/their name--a PC.

This Matvei was a tall, leanly muscled drow. His skin was deepest gray, his hair pure white, and his eyes a solid red. He helped the merfolk to sit up against the pole beside Lien and Fan. 

Regarding the three with narrowed eyes, the PCs left them tied for now. The rest of the party consisted of a wiry, green-skinned half-orc (Ghiles), a drow woman with dark purple skin and solid white eyes (Lorel), and a tattooed Ulfen with the pale skin, flaxen hair, and icy blue eyes of the north (Valkir).

“Are you the only ones here?” Matvei interrogated the three.

“I--I think so,” rasped Song, counting the slavers on the floor. “I don’t remember seeing any more of them.”

“No, are you the only slaves here?” asked Ghiles.

Lien nodded, still gagged. That much was sure.

“Fuck, a dead end,” said Lorel, kicking a body with her sharply-heeled boot.

“The hunt’s only just begun,” Valkir assured her.

Matvei continued the questioning. "Do you remember seeing a Varisian woman with a butterfly tattoo on her brow?"

Surprisingly enough, the three actually had memories of the morning before their awakening. They were impoverished, odd-job workers at the docks and frequent coworkers. To celebrate the end of a particularly difficult clean-up, they’d had rather too much to drink through the night. Come sunrise, they didn’t have the faculties to be suspicious of the group who’d tailed them into the alley. They had never, however, encountered a Varisian with such a memorable tattoo.

"No, sorry," croaked Fan.

The drow leader sighed and straightened up. “Fine, let’s just investigate the next lead.”

“So what do we do about the slaves?” asked Ghiles, his head tilting as he openly appraised the lines and curves of their naked bodies. His nostrils flared, orange eyes dilating in approval.

Lorel’s scarlet mouth spread in a wide, toothy grin. “I’ve always wanted to be a mistress. Let’s keep them--until we get bored of them.”

“We’ve already paid the price,” said Valkir. “We should experience all this world has to offer.”

“Hell, yeah!” said Ghiles. He began unbuckling his belt.

“No, please, you can’t be serious,” said Song. They looked to the leader for help.

Matvei looked away. Then turned away to loot the bodies while his companions descended on the slaves like wolves in ravenous rut.

*#*#*#*#

The last three members of Team Stray Dog awoke in creaking, swaying darkness. Thanks to the darkvision of their new forms, they could easily surmise that they were in the large but cramped hold of a ship. What they couldn’t guess was how much distance the ship had put between them and the west coast of Garund, the vast continent south of Cheliax and the Inner Sea.

The mixed-race Iris was a drow. His/their skin was a deep purple, his eyes a solid, brilliant green, and his hair a ghostly white. Tamarisk, a Saudi American, was a div-spawn tiefling. While their hair remained black, their honey brown eyes now sported the bar-like pupils of a goat. Their skin had become ember red with leopard-like splotches.

Then there was Kudu. The Egyptian American had turned into an idyllkin aasimar. She/they looked mostly the same with her black hair and ruddy brown skin, but two tall, black rabbit’s ears crowned her head and a fluffy white tail, her rump.

Despite their pounding headaches, strength-sapped limbs, and the oddly numbing taste of oily nutmeg on their tongues, the three were just cognizant enough to note the presence of four others. Green diamonds floated beside their names.

Cwra was a merfolk-like creature, but instead of a fish-tail, he/they had the long, rubbery black tentacles of a large octopus. Bathor was a hulking, green-skinned half-orc. Fero was an aquatic elf. They had the typical tall, lithe elven build, but their skin was a turquoise green and their hair a wavy, bluish-black. Daqris was the least human, being a catfolk. She/they had the head, fur, paws, and tail of a calico cat but a humanoid body structure.

Like the three former teammates, the PCs also appeared to have been drugged. Before any of them had managed more than sitting up, several pairs of heavy footsteps tromped down the stairs and into the hold. The harsh light of a lantern painfully speared their eyes and into their aching skulls.

The lantern-bearer held a whip in his other hand. This Master Scourge was a tiefling with pale, bluish-gray skin sporting countless scars and metal piercings. He was followed by eight rough-looking pirates, mostly half-elf and half-orc. All carried heavy wooden saps and coils of thin, sturdy rope.

An expression that might have been mistaken for pain but was clearly an attempt at a smile split Master Scourge's scarred mouth from ear to ear. "A good haul tonight, mateys. Now bind 'em before the taggit oil wears off."

The kidnappees could do nothing but mumble incoherent, numb-tongued protests. The pirates bound them fast and securely with practiced knotwork. Kudu was seized by rough hands that ripped the coarse, simple clothes off her body. Her arms were wrenched behind her back, lashed together at the elbows and wrists. Her upper arms were bound to her sides as the pirates bound squeezing ropes around her breasts. Her knees were bent, each leg bound calf-to-thigh in a humiliating frog-tie that left her powerless to hide her most sacred, secret parts.

With each restricting knot, the bunny’s apprehension grew. The only VR game she’d ever played had been Duel Wars, a battling game where players fought one-on-one or in teams. She knew other kinds of games existed, but there couldn’t be a game that allowed… 

A half-orc pirate forced Kudu onto her knees, grabbed her by the ears, and forced her mouth onto their cock. By the time they blew their load down her throat, she and the other captives had regained their motor skills. Which could only be used to cry out and writhe in vain while the pirates continued their midnight gang rape.

Master Scourge kicked the bunny over onto her face and breasts, ass in the air. He took her from behind, mounting her on all fours like an animal and shoving his dick up her ass. Kudu screamed and sobbed in pain, her body squirming helplessly between the hard floorboards and the tiefling reaming her ass.

Master Scourge gave a sadistic laugh and wrapped his whip tight and choking around her throat. The bunny gagged, tears streaming from her eyes, as he sat up and yanked her back against his solid chest. Letting her choke, her ass only constricting tighter around his cock, he pinned her against him and stood up, her own weight screwing her deeper down onto his dick.

Kudu’s eyes bulged in their sockets, tongue lolling from her mouth. Her bound body jerked and spasmed against his as his ramming dick raped orgasm after mind-breaking orgasm into her wracking anal shaft. A second pirate shoving their dick up her tight, slicked pussy didn’t help.

What she and the rest of her former teammates didn’t know (but would come to realize) was that this was a VR world for BDSM fetishists who also enjoyed a fantasy-fantasy setting. Right now, all Kudu, Iris, and Tamarisk could do was suffer the tortuous onslaught of penetration, violation, and forced pleasure. The pirates made them cum over and over, raping them until they passed out from the uncontrollable ecstasy.

The sadistic Master Scourge had his gang plug their cum into the unconscious captives’ assholes and pussies with their thick wooden saps. They left them bound and cum-stuffed in the ship’s hold for now. Morning for the pirates’ new slaves would come soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

The speaker was the sheriff of the little town of Sandpoint, Hemlock. She was a Shoanti woman with ruddy brown skin, black eyes, and long black hair pulled back into a simple ponytail.

“Um, well,” Jack mumbled, wiping his face and trying to pull himself together on short notice. “G-goblins…”

“Goblins just came in, attacking out of nowhere,” said Bishop. “Then suddenly there was a demon in the square. Maybe the attack was planned, some kind of demon sacrifice. The demon screamed and killed everyone--townsfolk and goblins. And it just...disappeared.”

Rook nodded tearily in confirmation.

Sheriff Hemock quirked her brow. “If the demon killed everyone, how are you three still here?”

“W-we…”

“We ran from the square to hide when the goblins started to attack. Shameful, but it saved our lives. We still watched through the window. When it was all over, we came out here to look for survivors.”

Rook added nothing to Bishop’s lie, but she did look back at the bodies littering the square. Her arms hugged her sides.

The sheriff gave a slow nod. “You did the right thing, running. I know you’ve been through a shock, but if you’re up to lend a hand, I could use some help going from door to door to get folks to help identify and move the bodies.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re happy to help,” said Jack.

“We’ll get people to help move the bodies,” said the dhampir. Their head tilted, eyes narrowed in remembrance. "Our boss might be able to get some help from Magnimar for the funerals."

Sheriff Hemlock blinked in surprise. "That would be excellent. Who's your boss?"

"Ameko Kaijitsu," Jack and Rook answered, their voices hushed and distant.

All three had memories here of lives that were somehow now their own. They were new to Sandpoint, yes, but they'd been hired by the owner of the Rusty Dragon tavern, and she was the daughter of one of the town's founders. She was, in fact, considered nobility back in the city of Magnimar.

The Rusty Dragon was your standard fantasy inn and tavern, notable for the iron, rusted dragon that loomed on the building's roof, doubling as a decoration and lightning rod. It was one of the town's most popular eateries due to its authentic Minkaian fare and the wide selection of spirits on tap. Moreover, Ameko offered rooms at a discount to any who could offer the floor an exciting adventure story, which brought in the bulk of travelers as well.

Jack, Rook, and Bishop could tell something was amiss even before entering the premises. The tavern was still and silent. They peered cautiously through the window.

Bodies littered the floor within.

"No, not again," gasped Rook.

"What the heck is going on?" growled Jack, barging in through the door. He dropped to a crouch to check the nearest surprise-attack victim. Like those in the town square...dead.

But Bishop shook their head. "Look at that--blows to the head. The goblins didn't attack like that."

"So...they were just a distraction!" Jack exclaimed. "Ameko--maybe she was the real target!"

"Let's go see if she's here," said Rook.

The Tian-Min was not among the bodies. The three shared a look. Based on their characters' inside knowledge of Sandpoint, there were three, most-likely locations she could be.

If, in the best case scenario, Ameko had not been present for the attack, then she had to be at the Kaijitsu manor/glassworks just outside of town. She rarely ever spoke of her family and was rumored to be on poor terms with them, but she always paid her father a quick visit when summoned.

If she had been present for the attack, then she'd possibly been kidnapped for ransom. There was a network of smugglers' tunnels beneath the town to the coastal cliffs. Her kidnappers could've hidden her in any cave or tunnel.

If the kidnappers were working closely with the goblins, however, there was a chance they'd taken her to the nearest goblin settlement. That would be Thistletop, an old wooden fort on a stone hill only 60ft off the coastline.

"Three of us, three places--that works out great," said Jack.

"If our deductions are correct," said Bishop.

"I don't think we have time to second guess ourselves right now," said Rook. "Ameko's life is on the line."

"Right, let's go. No kidnapper or goblin is gonna stop us with our Destroyers and/or Champions on hand."

Rook and Bishop shared a look. Ok, sure, so that hadn't worked out great last time, but now that they knew what to expect from their [Summons], they could keep from using AoE moves when innocents were about. This time, they'd be heroes for real.

#*#*#*#*

With shadow beasts prowling the streets of Westcrown at night, the four PCs dropped off 'the package' on the old temple's doorstep just before twilight. Garnet, Steel, and Juniper were on their knees. A wide red ribbon bound their naked bodies back-to-back-to-back. Red rubber balls gagged their mouths. Their wrists were bound in front of them with a narrower red ribbon, which also bound their ankles together under them. The PCs had attached a large gift tag to the main ribbon: “Thanks for all the hard work--enjoy your just desserts.”

Tegon, a sorcerer, used mage hand to knock on the door while the PCs hid across the street in another abandoned building. A bolt thunked behind the door, which opened a crack. Then swung wide with a deep laugh from the door guard, a rough-looking Chelaxian accompanied by four large, snarling hounds with glowing eyes and reddish fur.

“Hey Bastards!” they called out behind them. “Get a load of this--the Council of Thieves has sent some very warm regards!”

As petrified as Garnet was, she couldn’t help noticing that ‘the Council of Thieves’ didn’t sound like a noble house--a coalition of nobles at the very least. Then she, Steel, and Juniper were hauled into the repurposed, likely desecrated, church.

There were four Chelish Bastards on guard here with the dogs. They’d set up two wooden tables for playing card and dice games to pass the time. In one corner was a stack of small wooden crates and water barrels, supplies. Opposite them was the lower end of the temple’s belltower. The whole place smelled of sweat, drink, and dog.

They were either glad or bored enough not to question the new entertainment. While the guards unwrapped the main ribbon, the one who’d answered the door let down their pants. They scooped the voluptuous tiefling up in their arms and carried her to their chair. They sat and screwed her perfectly round ass down onto their cock, bouncing her hips, tits, and head.

Garnet grunted into her ball-gag, each forced bounce knocking the wind from her lungs. One of the massive Hell dogs came up, drooling and sniffing toward her penetrated crotch. She closed her legs tight and tried putting her hands between her hip and the dog’s muzzle.

The Bastard fucking her only laughed. They grabbed her wrists and pulled them back behind her head. They used the long ends of the ribbon to tie her bound wrists tight to the back of her neck.

The tiefling sputtered and choked at the sudden constriction, her ass squeezing just as tight around the Bastard’s cock. Her control of her legs weakened.

The Hell dog must’ve smelled it. It came up under her and between her legs, its forepaws shoving her shoulders back against the laughing Bastard. Its thick, knotted cock prodded hot and solid against the helpless mouth of her pussy.

Garnet ‘mmph’ed and squirmed in protest, but the more she struggled, the more she choked herself and all her holes. Including her pussy as the dog impaled it to the knot on its dick. She cried out uselessly, human and bestial dicks pistoning and stuffing her clenched ass and pussy.

All the thrusting and jouncing slammed the Hell dog’s knot up through the too-tight mouth of her pussy. The tiefling screamed into her gag, eyes bulging at the immense pressure. Which sent her ass and pussy convulsing uncontrollably on the beast and Bastard’s dicks.

Garnet writhed on the human’s lap, her legs jerking and quivering around the dog between her thighs. To be knotted and doubly penetrated was too much stimulation for the poor tiefling. Her back arched, hips bucking of their own volition as the Bastard and animal’s thrusting cocks forced her to cum over and over again.

She moaned through her nose, her eyes rolling back in her head at the unbearable, orgasmic pleasure. She was barely cognizant as the four PCs stormed the church/fuck room. She only let out a nasal squeal as the Hell dog and Bastard shot their burning loads up the wet, pulsating squeeze of her ass and pussy.

Thud! Garnet sudden hit the floor along with the two fucking her. Only, they were now lifeless corpses, their cocks still stuffing and knotting her. Her eyes widened in delayed realization. She thrashed and screamed into her gag.

“Hold your horses, necrophile,” said Vejna with a coolly amused smile.

“Here, let me,” said Ra. The half-elf pulled the tiefling off the two bodies and sliced through her ribbons with the edge of his bloodied longsword.

Garnet immediately looked for Steel and Juniper as her hands went to the buckle of her ball-gag. She threw off the tortuous device. Her...siblings(?), similarly freed, approached her unsteadily and helped her to her feet.

“Are you ok?” asked the changeling, their own face streaked with tears.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, what about you guys?”

“It’s over--that’s all that matters,” said Steel, pulling them into a quick hug.

“Don’t tell me that wasn’t even a little fun,” laughed Tegon, overhearing the three as they looted a nearby body.

“It was a job,” Garnet answered flatly, which only made the tiefling laugh all the harder.

“The writing on these NPCs is something else,” said Ra, shaking his head in wonder.

“Indeed,” said Vejna, her eyes narrowed in thought. But whatever the Varisian was cooking up there, she kept it to herself for now. “If you’re all ready, let’s get back to Arael, shall we?”

“We can’t,” Graven chimed in gravelly. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the window. Darkness had fallen. Westcrown’s night guard, an undiscerning army of beasts composed of living shadow, was on the prowl.

“Ah, fuck,” said the half-elf, “we’ll have to spend the night here.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it a pleasant stay,” said Vejna. The smile she turned onto the three siblings, however, promised anything but.

#*#*#*#*

Once the three PCs had finished fucking the slaves senseless, they designated Song, Lien, and Fan as party cohorts. Ghiles, Lorel, and Valkir ungagged and unbound them. They clothed the NPCs’ limp, strength-sapped bodies in the slavers’ leather armor, which amounted to strategically placed leather wraps and bands that left more exposed than covered. It did, however, give their AC a tiny boost.

Then the PCs...simply left, laughing, chatting, and following Matvei out of the Puffy Pelican. Song pushed up onto their tail, wobbling as they adjusted to their new balance. Lien and Fan staggered up to their feet.

“Motherfuckers!” Lien spat. “What the fuck was that even all about?”

“I don’t know, but they’re gone now,” said Fan. “Is everyone...as well as they could be?”

“No, I don’t think we’re done with them,” said Song, checking their character info. The PCs may’ve been out of sight, but they’d left their cohort mark and whatever that entailed.

Speak of the devil, the three NPCs found themselves walking out of the building.

“What the fuck’s going on?!” Lien shrieked, flailing her arms as she tried to resist the pull forward.

“I-I don’t know!” said Fan, grabbing hold of the doorframe. His legs kept moving, yanking his fingers off the decrepit wood.

“We’re part of the party now,” said Song. “There must be some kind of range limitation party members can have from each other.”

“That’s bullshit! We didn’t ask to join their stupid, fucking party!”

“We-we’re NPCs now, Lien. I-I don’t think we have a choice.”

With the invisible leash of NPC cohortdom dragging them onward, it was clear they did not. Their choices narrowed to hanging back as far as they were from their nightmarish PC masters or speeding up to keep an eye on the bastards.

So Lien pitched a fit. She kicked and flailed while shrieking, “Help! Help! We’ve been kidnapped by PCs!”

Which drew looks of suspicion from the big city’s NPCs and confusion from its PCs. Song grabbed one of her arms and clapped a hand over her mouth. Even meek Fan grabbed her other arm.

“You’ve gotta stop--we’re NPCs now,” the merfolk hissed in her ear. “If anyone with means figures out we’re ‘awake,’ they’re gonna have maintenance done to our brains, and we could be gone for good.”

They let her go only when the tension dropped from her muscles. Lien put on a miserable face, but she didn’t try shouting anymore. The android gave her shoulders as comforting a hug as he could.

“At least we’ve got each other,” said Fan. “Who knows where the others are? And if they were even this lucky.”

Song frowned pensively. He was right about one thing--the likelihood of this happening...they’d never heard of even any rumors of something like this across any of the VR worlds. They’d never been in a VR world like this one before either, one that allowed all these atrocities to befall and be perpetrated by its inhabitants. This had to be some exclusive, wealthy-elite-only world.

For now, they were simply forced to follow their PCs from Dockway to a tangle of open-air washhouses and laundries, to the slum district of Underbridge where the filth and refuse of the city washed back up onto the shore. Truly, those four were pursuing leads on the woman with the butterfly tattoo. The last tip led them deeper into Underbridge, to an old boarding house in even worse shape than the Puffy Pelican.

Its clapboard sides were dark with mildew and marred by scorch marks. The windows were heavily boarded over and fire had gutted portions of the roof’s moss-covered shingles. The building stood near Magnimar’s stark wall of Seacleft, and scree from several decades of minor rockfalls had piled up along the nearside.

The four PCs stood before the old boarding house in the deepening darkness. They had unsheathed their weapons. Their drow leader looked back at their cohorts.

“Stay close if you want to live,” Matvei warned them. “We’re not the only ones looking for Nalya Vanseri.”

Indeed, as soon as the four stepped through the property’s short, rusted iron gate, a motley crew/small army of humans and goblins rushed out to attack them. Not just the PCs but the NPCs too--the four being too few to hold back the tide.

Song simply...reacted. They’d seen their character stats. They had no weapons or even the strength to fight unarmed. The only ability they had that might potentially defend themself, Lien, and Fan, was something called [Summons].

A familiar, deepest blue vortex thrummed to whirling life before them. Out breached the gore-soaked hooves of a horse made of sinew topped by a flayed but living humanoid torso. It was Song’s Champion from Duel Wars, the horrific, aquatic Nuckelavee.

As soon as the hostiles came within 20ft of the Nuckelavee, they fell to the Champion’s aura, which caused them to gain the ability to breathe water at the expense of losing their ability to breathe air.

In the six seconds that Song had with their Champion, they sent them galloping forward into the bulk of the small army alongside the PCs. Their aura knocked every hostile in range to the ground. The Nuckelavee finished with a psychic spell, ectoplasmic eruption, that sent a cascading avalanche of the ghostly, glowing matter into the hostiles at the rear of the charge. Their entangled bodies were bludgeoned to death by the phantom wave.

With a triumphant neigh from their gristly, humanoid mouth, the Nuckelavee vanished in a harmless burst of dark blue sparks. Ignoring the enemies slowly suffocating to death on the boarding house grounds, the four PCs swiveled around in equally slow stupefaction. They stared at their three slave cohorts, jaws slack.

“What the hell was that?”

#*#*#*#*

The pirates returned to unbind their captives’ legs and shake them awake. They hauled all seven to their feet and painfully yanked out the saps plugging their holes. The pirates’ sperm gooped down their legs and splattered onto their feet and floorboards.

Master Scourge and his crew prodded the exhausted captives with the filthy saps out of the hold and up the stairs to the main deck. They squinted as their eyes adjusted to the light of the early morn. They were on a sizable ship in the middle of the ocean, Port Peril and the mainland of the Shackles naught but an ochre haze many miles astern.

The bulk of the crew, outcast half-breeds and mean-looking others clustered around the ship’s mainmast. They whistled, whooped, and leered at the sight of the new slaves. The naked, bukkaked captives subconsciously huddled closer to each other.

Two figures stood on a higher deck on the stern. The first was a broad, muscular rougarou easily 7ft tall without their broad-brimmed hat or pointed ears. The wolf-headed humanoid had sharp, blazing yellow eyes and was covered in black and dark gray fur. Even without the name above their head, Captain Harga, the seven would’ve pegged the domineering wolf as the captain.

The second was a cecaelia woman in a long, open coat and carrying a well-used cat-o’-nine-tails. She had platinum blonde hair, dark pink skin, and thick, rubbery white tentacles. This Madam Mist was clearly the first mate, and she appraised the captives with a cool gaze and mirthless ghost of a smile.

The captain raised a clawed hand. In an instant, the crew fell silent. The wolf directed their blazing yellow gaze onto the captives, their mouth spreading in a razor-sharp grin.

“Glad you could join us at last. Welcome to the Wormwood--my thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my crew.” 

The pirates laughed and snickered at that.

“I’m Captain Harga, not that you should be addressing me until you’ve made ‘pirate’ yourselves. See, you may be slaves now, but do your jobs well and you, too, can be promoted to the wonderful rank of a crew member and all the perks and treasures that entails.

The pirates gave a hearty cheer.

“One more thing. You may find yourself in a few healthy scrapes, but there’ll be a keelhauling for anyone caught killing. This crew here is your family now, and the Wormwood, your home.”

The pirates cheered even more uproariously.

“Now! Madam Mist, if you’d be so kind, get these landlubbing slaves on the path to piratedom.” Captain Harga walked away to the raucous applause and merry chants of the crew.

Master Scourge cracked his whip, breaking up the crowd. “Get back to work!”

Which left the seven under the shiver-inducing gaze of the cecaelia first mate. She slithered down to the main deck on her undulating tentacles and tapped the head of her cat-o’-nine-tails rhythmically against her palm. “Which one of you can climb?”

After a moment’s silence, the catfolk piped up timidly. “I-I can.”

Madam Mist drew her cutlass with a tentacle and sliced through Daqris’ bonds. “Up the mainmast with you.”

True to her word, the catfolk scampered up and down the 60ft pole in a minute flat. The cecaelia nodded approvingly.

“You’re a rigger now, which means you’ll be working under me. Which one of you can cook?”

“I, uh, went to culinary school,” said the aquatic elf.

The first mate quirked her brow but sliced through Fero’s bonds next. “Head down to the galley. You’re the new cook’s mate.”

They gave her an uncertain but earnest salute and ran back to the stairs.

“The rest of you are swabs, and you’ll be under the command of our dear Master Scourge.” She held out a hand, and the tiefling joined her side with a sadistic grin.

“Good to have you, my dear swabs,” he said mockingly, arms outspread. “You’re now responsible for the cleanliness and tidiness of our delightful home. But never forget that you’re still slaves. If any of the proper crew gets an urging, your body is to service them in any way they see fit. If, however, you let that get in the way of your duties, you’ll be installed into this ship as a full-time cum toilet, understand?”

The slaves nodded fearfully.

“Excellent.”

Madam Mist sliced through their bonds and Master Scourge got them scrubbing and swabbing immediately. Which left their bare asses up in the air. True to the tiefling’s words, the slaves routinely found themselves shoved against the floor, a wall, or bent over a rail and fucked on the job.

But that was nothing compared to the exhausted slaves’ first night after swabbing the Wormwood. Dinner and ale in their bellies lit a fire in the pirates’ loins. The slaves were made to serve.

Kudu was on her knees, licking and sucking a cunt, when large, strong hands lifted her hips from behind. Her legs and bare feet dangled over the boards of the main deck. She had to grab hold of the pirate’s waist in front of her to keep steady.

Then the bunny shrieked and squealed into the pirate’s cunt as a long, thick cock screwed her asshole all the way down to a massive knot. She was being raped by Captain Harga themself. They were an animal, slamming her asshole with gut-pounding thrusts.

The sweat-slicked bridge of Kudu’s body writhed in agony between the pirate grabbing her ears and holding her to their cunt and the captain reaming her ass all the way into her guts. All that wriggling and screwing only helped the wolf ram their massive knot through the tiny mouth of the bunny’s ass.

The pussy in her mouth gagged the Kudu’s inhuman screams, her body thrashing in even more violent agony. The immense pressure of Captain Harga’s knot pistoning inside her was too much stimulation for the little bunny. Her fingers and toes clenched, back arching as she succumbed to wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure exploding from her ass all the way up her spine.

The wolf howled, pumping their knotted bitch full of seed. They wrenched her away from the pirate in front of her, forcing her to her hands and knees. Captain Harga climbed over her into a full, bestial, knotting mount. They forced the bucking, moaning rabbit under them to take every last every of their seed. When they finally pulled out, she collapsed into a quivering, cum-leaking heap on the boards of the deck.

Captain Harga leered down at her with their vicious, fanged grin. This cum-brained bunny was the best fuck they’d had all week. They commemorated by marking her rawed body with their piss.


End file.
